Scars
by figaro2
Summary: Set after 'The Last of the Timelords' the Doctor is not as well as he has been pretending.
1. Chapter 1

The TARDIS floated aimlessly in the vortex. He stood in front of a mirror, looking at his face. He lifted a hand and touched his cheek, reassuring himself that it was real, that it wasn't just his imagination that had restored him. Mustn't put this off any longer. He might have restored his age and appearance, but he hadn't been able to restore the other damage. He hadn't checked or even thought about it (hadn't wanted to) but now they were gone as he had expected, and he couldn't delay any longer. He slowly removed his jacket, and undid his tie.

_Strip._

He froze, looking around wildly. The voice had seemed so real, so clear. Then he shook his head. He's dead, he reminded himself. He's dead, and you need to do this. He unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, and stared expressionlessly at his reflection. He picked up a small mirror, and turned around, angling the mirror so he could see his back. He finished undressing, and observed the rest of his body carefully. That's a lot of scars, he thought. Stuck with them til next regeneration, I suppose. He was strangely calm about the idea.

_What did you and Martha talk about? You can tell me._

He started to shiver, pulling on a dressing gown. Auditory hallucinations, he thought, heading slowly towards the medical unit. Or would you call it a dissociative flashback? Post traumatic stress. And he felt sick, so sick. He couldn't remember the last time he felt well.

He couldn't use the Archangel energy to restore his health. The others imagined he had, but of course they had no comprehension of the massive amount of energy needed just to reverse the temporal distortions to which his body had been subjected. What little remained he needed in reserve to deal with the Master. He had planned to put the other Timelord in a stasis unit (he knew he had one around here somewhere) until he was in a fit state to deal with him. But then Lucy had intervened, and the resulting departure of the Master's presence from his mind had triggered the whole memory of his planet and people burning all over again. They had thought he was grieving for the Master. How wrong they'd been.

He soon realised the energy he had left from the psychic field was still going to be needed for other things. Less than 24 hours after time had reversed Jack had collapsed, and he had needed to link telepathically with him in order to help him avoid a breakdown. (It had taken over seven hours of telepathic support and healing to bring him back from the damage the Master had done). And Martha …. well, she had needed a shoulder to cry on, basically. He gave it to her. He owed them both that much.

He had meant to tell them, would have had to tell them, if they'd stayed. So much of what the Master had done to him had been done in private, so no one else knew the full extent of what was going on. They had asked if he was okay, and he wanted to tell them, but … he couldn't think of the words. That's got to be a first.

_Oh come on, less screaming, more talking. What did you tell Martha? What were your instructions? Tell me. TELL ME!_

He ran a complete scan of himself in the medical unit, and discovered internal injuries, severe exhaustion, dehydration ... and so on. The Doctor needs a doctor, he thought. Physician heal thyself. Well, no one else is going to do it. Better get started then.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack sat in his office at the Hub, late one night. On his desk was a box full of discs, and he was staring at his as yet blank computer screen, lost in thought.

Ten days after departing the Valiant, he had assumed forever, he wasn't too impressed about being summoned back. But how do you tell Unit that their ship is the one place in the universe you never want to see ever again? Something he needed to see, they said. Something needing clarification. The team were still picking up the pieces after John's visit, and they still were wary around him. He knew they were scared he was going to disappear again, but it couldn't be helped. He gritted his teeth, told them it was classified (true enough), and went.

They showed him a secret door off the conference room that he hadn't known existed. They talked about a special shield that made it unnoticed, but the shield had failed and they were able to locate the room and gain entry.

Jack entered, to be confronted with a sight both bizarre and extremely disturbing. The first thing that he noticed was a centrally located upright metal frame, with manacles attached for wrists and ankles. Dried blood stained the manacles, and the floor. There were shelves containing instruments of torture, ranging from sophisticated and alien to the most basic and primitive. His toys, thought Jack bitterly, recognising many of the devices. Most bizarre, he finally noticed a completely stocked bar, a comfortable armchair, and a small side table.

A Unit technician told him they had tested samples of the blood in the room and could find no human blood, which only meant one thing, of course. They asked him if the Doctor had ever talked about this, and he could only shake his head in mute shock. Finally they had turned over a number of items to Torchwood, many of the alien torture devices, and a box of DVDs. Saxon's home movies, said the Unit commander. All labelled, many with 'freak' and others with an alien script.

It was one of these he picked up now, and inserted it into the computer. It began to play, and he watched it silently for some moments.

"_Oh, I haven't used this one in ages. I've forgotten what it does." A hum. A scream. "Oh yes, that's it!"_

"You stupid, stubborn, idiot," he told the screen finally. "Why the hell didn't you tell us?"


	3. Chapter 3

He had known even before Jack entered that something was wrong. He was radiating pain and fear like a beacon from down the corridor. So he had laid down his sonic screwdriver and was already getting up, looking towards the door, when Jack entered.

He watched him shaking, standing just inside the door of the TARDIS, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He took off his glasses and approached, as Martha entered behind him, saying something about Jack not getting any rest. They had been with Lucy Saxon, getting her ready for transport. She hadn't said a word since shooting her husband, but suddenly she said something to Jack, and now he was like this.

He watched Jack back away from them and bump into a pillar, sliding down it until he hit the floor, all the time shaking. He seated himself on the floor as well. How had he explained it to Martha? "It's not really a surprise. The human mind isn't really built to deal with what he's had to face … well, no mind is, really." He watched Jack staring at him in wide-eyed anxiety, trying to speak without success. He took his hand. "It's all right. Of course I'm going to help."

Martha wanted to know if Jack was having a breakdown, to which the answer was of course, yes, or very close to it. He didn't have the energy to help him, not really. He was already exhausted, depleted. But it couldn't wait. He had to try. He told Martha to make sure they weren't disturbed no matter what, and then he reached out to help.

The journey through Jack's mind had been a nightmare of mutilation and death, and the effort had exhausted him. The Master's presence overshadowed everything, words like 'freak', 'filth', 'dirt', 'monster' echoing through the mindscape. Jack's terror of the Master, firmly suppressed in the physical world, was here an overwhelming reality. Underneath all of this the Doctor had found a century of loneliness and confusion, an image of the TARDIS disappearing from the Game Station, and his own stupid words on Malcasiro so firmly intertwined with the Master's they were barely distinguishable: "you're wrong … hurts to look at you … it's instinct." How Jack had trusted him enough to let him in the Doctor could not fathom. It was undeserved. It was humbling.

He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling of his room, then lifted a shaking hand to his face and wiped away sweat. He looked at his damp hand, frowning. That's not good. Should go back to the medical unit and check it out. He didn't move. Maybe later. He closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Martha got off the train at Cardiff station and looked around.

"Martha!"

She turned, and smiled. "Jack!" She rang towards him and they embraced.

"Martha Jones!" said Jack, grinning. "I've sorted out a hotel for you."

"A cheap one, I hope," she said. "I can't afford …"

"Uh uh," said Jack. "None of that. My treat." She looked as if she was going to argue, but he put a finger to her lips. "Let me. Least I can do."

Martha nodded in defeat, and took his arm as he picked up her bag. "This all you got?"

"I'm only staying for a day or two. I start back at class soon, and I'm way behind."

They got into the car, and he drove in the direction of the hotel. "How's the family?"

"Struggling," said Martha. "UNIT gave us the name of a psychiatrist, someone who won't think they're nuts."

"You're not going?"

"Do I need to?" she asked with a smile.

"How are you coping?"

She paused before answering. "Been better. Been worse. Surviving. I'll be okay. You?"

"Oh, fine, fine," said Jack.

"Your team?"

"Really angry," Jack sighed.

Martha watched him for a moment. "You haven't told them what happened, have you?"

Jack shook his head. "Don't know how," he admitted. "And I'm not sure I want to."

As they sat in the restaurant of the five star hotel later, Martha watched Jack answer his phone three times and each time tell whoever was on the other end that he was taking the night off and they needed to deal with things without him. After the third phone call he turned his phone off.

"If it's urgent …" she began.

He shook his head. "They're just scared I'm leaving again, that's all." He paused. "I was surprised when you rang. I thought you were going with him."

"I couldn't," said Martha. "How could I leave me family? They needed me, and he didn't."

Jack didn't quite meet her gaze. "I guess."

She frowned, puzzled. "What is it? You said no too. I thought you two had resolved your differences."

"We had!" said Jack quickly. "Of course we had."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

He shook his head.

"What's on your mind, Jack?"

Jack signed. "I was asked back to the Valiant a few days ago."

Martha grimaced. "Why didn't you say no?"

Jack shrugged. "UNIT said they had something to show me." He quickly filled her in on what he'd seen.

Martha stared at him in horror. "I want to see," she said determinedly.

He began to shake his head. "You don't want to …"

"Jack, please. I need to."

Jack looked at her. He had a laptop and some of the discs in the car, knowing all along that he would end up doing this, even while he resisted. He shouldn't, he knew. Shouldn't be telling her or showing her. But he was tired, and desperate for someone to share with, and she was the only one who'd understand.

"I've got something in the car. We can look at it in your room, if you like."

_The Doctor, de-aged and naked, hung from the frame limply, his body spasming uncontrollably. The Master leaned back in the armchair, holding a brandy glass in one hand swirling it gently, while the other hand held a small electronic device. He pointed it again at the Doctor and pressed a button. The Doctor shrieked in agony, convulsing._

_"Well?" said the Master, sipping his brandy. "Mmm, this is excellent." There was no response. The Master sighed, and inspected the small device. "You know, the Varangan I bought this neural shocker from swore it would make anyone talk." He tossed the device over one shoulder in disgust. "Varangans will say anything to make a sale." He sipped the brandy in silence for a while, watching the Doctor's quivering form thoughtfully. "Why do you do it?" he asked quietly. "Why champion these insects? You and I … we're gods compared to them. I'm trying to make our people live again. I thought you would want that." He rose, and went over to the frame, lifting the Doctor's head and looking into his eyes. "I don't understand," murmured the Master._

_The Doctor's eyes were glazed, unfocused, but he still managed to whisper, "I know," in reply._

_The Master held his gaze for a moment, then walked back to the table and picked up his laser screwdriver. He set the controls and pointed it at the Doctor, who began to scream. By the time the scream stopped, his body was once again old. The Master re adjusted the settings on his screwdriver and pointed it at the frame, releasing the restraints. The Doctor collapsed into a quivering heap on the floor. The Master looked at his watch, then looked down at the Doctor, his face unreadable. "See that you're dressed and back where you're supposed to be by morning," he said. He drained the last of the brandy. "Night." He left the room._

"Turn it off," said Martha tightly, as the Doctor began to crawl painfully towards his discarded clothes. Jack switched off the footage, and watched her uneasily. She didn't say anything for a moment, just took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Did you know?" she asked.

Jack shook his head. "No."

"Someone had to have known," she objected. "Someone had to clean up the mess."

"Don't look at me, I was in the engine room."

She looked at him. "Were there recordings of you too?" He didn't say anything. "I'm so sorry, Jack."

"Look … he's fine," said Jack. "He must be. He … he was acting fine. He must have healed within the Archangel field. So he's fine."

Martha looked at him dubiously, then jumped up and went over to where she'd left her jacket thrown across a chair. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her phone, pressing the speed dial. She listened. "Voicemail." She paused then started to speak, trying to sound normal. "Doctor, hi, it's Martha. I just … rang to see how you are. Give me a call … bye." She hung up.

"He's fine," Jack repeated.

"What if he's not, Jack?" she said.


	5. Chapter 5

In the deserted console room of the TARDIS a mobile phone, placed on the seat, began to ring. After some minutes, a narrow beam of light stabbed down from the ceiling, illuminating the phone. The voicemail message suddenly played, Martha's voice loud in the quiet of the room. The message ended, and seconds passed. The central rotor began to rise and fall. The TARDIS was in flight.

_Stinging blows on his back, his body convulsing, screams muffled through the gag. "A bamboo cane is quite a minimalist option, don't you think?" said the Master, grunting with exertion. "Naturally growing, no alteration or adaptation needed, and look at all that damage it does." He stopped finally to catch his breath. "And one hell of a work out." He pulled the gag out of the Doctor's mouth. "Care to tell me what I want to know?" Whimpering was the only reply. "No? You are so tiresome!" He shrugged. "Oh well, on we go!" He put the gag back in._

The Doctor woke up screaming, the light in the room automatically coming on. He turned his head, seeing a glass of water placed on the table next to his bed. "Thank you, very thoughtful," he whispered to the TARDIS, licking dry lips, then, raising himself with difficulty, gulped down the water. He lay back in the bed, and then suddenly became aware of something. He frowned, wondering if he was imagining things, eventually addressing the empty room. "Where are we going?" He listened. "Cardiff? … well yes, I know I need help. It's just …" He sighed. "Oh, they're going to be so mad."

Jack said goodbye to Martha, and left the hotel, heading towards his car. As he walked, suddenly his wristcomp beeped, as it had for John's message only a few days before. John, Jack thought in exasperation. I don't need this. He activated the message, but to his surprise all he saw was a holographic image of the TARDIS, and it looked from the small amount he could see as if it was on the Plass. Jack stared at this in dumbfounded confusion, even as he arrived at his car. He opened the laptop he was carrying, connected to the Hub's computers, and accessed the Plass CCTV. There it was, standing in the moonlight, silent. Jack hesitated, and then rang Martha's room.

Minutes later she joined him in the carpark, and they drove towards the Plass.

"He must have got the message," she said.

"Yes, but where is he?" replied Jack. "If he could access my wristcomp he could leave a message himself. Why just send me a picture of the TARDIS?"

"So I wasn't the only one who was worried, then?" Martha said in mild annoyance.

Jack shrugged. "Just trying to … look on the bright side."

They crossed the Plass on foot and stood outside the TARDIS. Jack unlocked the door and they entered, to a silent and deserted console room.

"Maybe he did go out?" asked Martha in a whisper.

"Doc?" called Jack.

Martha pointed to the seat. "My phone." Jack noticed the Doctor's overcoat discarded on the floor. Suddenly an inner door opened, and they turned, expecting to see the Doctor, but there was no one there.

"I think the TARDIS is trying to tell us something," said Jack. "Come on."

The corridor led them directly to the door of the Doctor's room. This door also opened of its own accord, and they entered. "You were right," said Jack. "He's not fine."


	6. Chapter 6

He had meant to get up. Honestly. Have a shower, try to look reasonably civilised when Jack arrived, try not to look like he was dying. Not that he could pretend, not anymore. But he had meant to try, and all he'd done was go back to sleep. He woke to the feel of a hand on his forehead, and an unexpected voice saying, "He's got a fever."

He frowned. That sounded like Martha. What's Martha doing in Cardiff? Wasn't she looking after her family? He soon discovered he was way too tired for his curiosity to last. He opened his eyes.

"You are the most stubborn, insufferable ..." Martha began, and then broke off when he smiled.

He coughed. Now where did that cough come from? "Nice bedside manner, Doctor Jones."

She sighed. "We are going to the medical unit. Jack is going to carry you. You are not going to argue. We are going to fix you up. OK?"

He saw her try not to look alarmed when he just nodded. Too tired to argue, he thought. Too tired to explain that I'm too tired to argue.

Jack pulled back the covers, and lifted him. He said cheerily, "Always knew I'd sweep you off your feet one day."

Jack sounds worried too. He hadn't meant to worry anyone. Best reassure him. "Stop it," he managed to murmur.

"Doctor? Doctor?" He opened his eyes to the realisation that they were now in the medical unit and Martha was leaning over him. "I need you to stay awake a little longer. I don't know what's normal for you, so I need you to tell me." He nodded. "Okay," said Martha. "I don't want to hear the words 'all right' coming out of your mouth in the near future. Can you start by telling me how you feel … really?"

He supposed he needed to be truthful. He hadn't meant to worry anyone. He knew they had their own problems. He felt ashamed. "Really terrible," he replied.

Jack stepped back from the bed and watched as Martha cajoled out of the Doctor symptoms, examined him, ran the scanner over him, got him to tell her where the results differed from normal, and asked him what he'd done to treat himself. Jack only stepped in to lend a hand when asked. Finally the Doctor murmured, "I just left things a little too long, that's all."

"You don't say," Martha retorted in exasperation, then immediately regretted her tone when she saw his contrite expression.

"I'm really sorry Martha," he mumbled, exhaustion finally getting the better of him. "I didn't mean … for this to happen." His eyes dropped closed before she could respond.

She looked up at Jack ruefully. "Some bedside manner, huh?" she said, embarrassed.

"Oh, I don't know," Jack said. "You got a lot of information out of him. That's impressive."

She shrugged. "I doubt he'd be so cooperative if he wasn't so sick." She looked down at the Doctor and said, "We'd better leave him to sleep. He did tell me once that Timelords need to sleep a lot when they're sick."

They left the medical unit, and returned to the console room. "So, how bad is it?" said Jack.

"Oh, he was quite right about one thing," said Martha. "If he'd acted sooner he wouldn't be in this situation right now. He'll be alright, I think, but he's too weak to be left alone, at least for the next few days."

"OK," said Jack. "Whatever you need me to do … Martha?"

She was staring into space, and then blinked at him. "I'm sorry, I was just …" She pointed to the far side of the console. "I asked him if he was alright. He stood right there and said 'I'm always alright.' He lied to me. He must have been sick and in pain even then and I never even noticed. What kind of doctor will I be if I can't tell when someone's suffering?"

Jack shook his head. "Don't do that to yourself. None of us noticed. He hid it well."

She grimaced. "I am so angry with him!"

Jack smiled. "You can kick his butt when he's better."

"Don't think I won't!" retorted Martha. She paused. "God, Jack, those scars …"

"Yeah, I know," said Jack

.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_Martha paused outside the TARDIS with her hand on the door, suddenly hesitant about entering. She had spent a lot of time with her family after time reset, supporting them, dealing with their health issues, and being with them during the debriefing from Unit. After the Doctor's disposal of the Master's body he had disappeared into the TARDIS, seldom coming out except when one or other of the UNIT people was particularly insistent. Martha knew her mother and her sister were taking him meals, but she herself had only stepped foot inside the day before when Jack had experienced his breakdown. _

_If she was completely honest with herself she didn't really know what to say to him. For twelve months she had talked of nothing but him, and now she felt ... numb. She had seen him cry over the Master's corpse and she hadn't understood it. She got the impression none of the others understood it either, but it didn't seem to bother them like it was bothering her. And surely they had far more reason to be bothered than she did. She had known her family and friends had been tortured by him, and she was bewildered by the Doctor's reactione. _

_She had tried talking to her sister about it, but Tish had just smiled sadly and said that it was hard to put into words. Her mother, while vocal in her hate for the Master, was incomprehensibly the most defensive of the Doctor's reaction. "Leave him be," she said. "He's gone through a lot." Jack had just shrugged his shoulders, and told her it was complicated. Her father had admitted he didn't know the Doctor well enough to answer the question, but he knew what the Doctor had done for all of them, and if he wanted to weep for their enemy then he was entitled. Martha discovered she was feeling very much on the outside of a situation she knew nothing about. She had suffered too, but her suffering was separate from theirs. Now she was trying to care, and cope, and she just didn't feel she had it in her any more. She had needed to get away from the demands of family and the questions of the UNIT staff (though luckily Jack, now recovered, was dealing with most of that), so here she was. Nothing wrong with going in and saying hi, she thought, and entered._

"_Didn't think you were ever coming in," he said, looking up from the console with a smile. She smiled back, and looked around. Already the TARDIS was looking better than she had the day before, and Martha got the odd idea that she was feeling better too. As if reading her thoughts, the Doctor said, "She's feeling a bit more herself. She'll be as good as new in no time. Won't you baby?" He gave the console a pat._

_Martha laughed then, and he grinned at her. She came over and took a seat next to where he was working. "How's out there, going?" he said._

"_Questions, paperwork, more questions ... I don't know how Jack can stand it," she said glumly. "My family's so malnourished, Jack too, though it doesn't seem to show on him as much. The UNIT doctors have been really helpful with getting their strength up."_

"_That's good," said the Doctor, pointing his screwdriver at two wires that were coming out of a console panel. They joined, and he stuffed them back in. "And are they looking after you too?"_

"_Oh I'm alright," said Martha. She didn't notice him look dubiously at her over the top of his glasses, as she was staring off into space. "It's just ... I should be elated, right? We did it, we saved everyone ..."_

"_You did it," the Doctor reminded her._

_She nodded. "I did it!" She sighed. _

"_So how do you feel?"_

"_Nothing," she admitted. "Absolutely nothing." She looked at him. "Just before ... there was this bloke, Tom. He helped me. When the Master came for me he tried to defend me. The Master shot him down in the street."_

"_I'm so sorry," said the Doctor. "But he's alive again. It never happened."_

"_That's not the point," she said. "I liked him, you know? He was kind, and risked himself, and then sacrificed himself ... and I felt nothing. Oh, angry at the Master maybe, but no grief, no revulsion ..." Her voice quavered a little. "I keep wondering, what if I'm ... you know, hard? What if there was so much horror that I'm used to it, think it's normal? What kind of doctor will I be if I've lost my compassion?" To her surprise she began to sob. She tried to control it, but the Doctor took off his glasses and put his arms around her, and all she could do was put her head down on his shoulder and cry. _

Martha entered her old room on the TARDIS. She and Jack had decided between them that she would take the days and Jack the nights, as like the Doctor he didn't seem to need much sleep. By the following night when Martha went to her old room in the TARDIS to try and sleep she was exhausted, but knew sleep would be a long time coming. He had not woken since the previous evening, but had spoken in his sleep several times, words and phrases that had made her blood run cold. And now all she could feel was guilt.

She hadn't meant to pour it all out that day, a whole year's worth of fear, pain and hardship. He had been so good, she remembered. He'd stopped work immediately, had come and held her, and comforted her, and said all the right things. They'd drunk tea, and eaten biscuits, and talked all night in the end. It had been so good to tell him, and to know that he understood and appreciated everything she'd been through.

Did I even ask him about what he'd been through? she wondered now. I don't think I did. Selfish. All night, no one but him and me, and not once did I see he was in pain. How did he hide it so well?


	8. Chapter 8

Jack walked across the Plass towards the TARDIS, a laptop under his arm. He was acutely aware of the CCTV on the Plass, and the fact that he was being watched. It wasn't unexpected. After all, when had he ever left the office while everyone else was still there, working? He knew they were afraid he was going to leave again, despite his reassurances. He'd very deliberately told them he'd see them all in the morning, but they would be noticing the TARDIS in a moment and they'd immediately fear the worst. He could only hope he wouldn't have Gwen hammering on the door of the TARDIS demanding explanations. Hiding his own experiences from them was one thing, but this was the Doctor's privacy, and Jack had no intention of telling them what was going on. He hoped the others would restrain her, because he didn't want to be ordering them away, as it would only create more resentment and suspicion.

He sat down in the medical unit after sending Martha to get some sleep, and opened the laptop, hoping to get some work done. Martha wondered why he didn't just tell them, he knew, and he couldn't really give her an answer. He'd talked to Ianto about their proposed date, that morning, and had several other conversations with the others about future events, all stressing to them that he was back to stay. He could only hope it was enough. Because he just couldn't talk about any of what had happened, not yet, anyway, and maybe not ever.

There had been a surprise that day from Francine. Both Jack and Martha had wondered who cleaned that room on the Valiant. The blood must have been mopped up occasionally, torture instruments and glasses cleaned and put away, and empty bottles removed. After Martha had phoned home to say she wouldn't be returning to London immediately and explained why, Francine had revealed that she had been the one doing the cleaning. She had assumed along with everyone else that the Doctor was fine, and hadn't wanted to mention it because she felt it was for him to say and not her. "To keep each other's secrets – that's all we had," she said.

That was true enough, Jack reflected. Keeping secrets – that was often crucial to survival on board the Valiant. He closed the laptop with a sigh. He was too distracted to get any work done. The Doctor had been sleeping for nearly 24 hours, and despite talking in his sleep and sometimes thrashing about had showed no signs of waking. Jack watched his pale face, remembering how light and frail the Doctor had seemed when he had carried him here, and wondering not for the first time how everyone had missed it. How did I miss it? he thought. I was there. I saw him often enough. Was I so wrapped up in my own pain I simply didn't see his? "Why didn't we see it?" he wondered aloud.

To his surprise the Doctor suddenly responded in a whisper, "Residual … energy from the Archangel field. Enough to get through a few more days. Not enough to heal."

"You should have said."

The Doctor opened his eyes. "Thirsty." Jack poured water and helped him drink. "Thank you." He closed his eyes again. Jack thought he must have gone back to sleep, until he said, "Meant to … say, I mean. Never seemed to be the right moment."

"No, you were too busy looking after us."

The Doctor opened his eyes again, and turned to look at Jack, the black shadows around his eyes making them stand out prominently in his pale face. "You needed my help."

"Yes, I did," Jack agreed, unable to stop a small shudder at the memory.

"You … ok?"

Jack nodded. "Fine, thanks to you. But … Doc, what about later, when you were asking us to come with you?"

"I thought you'd probably say no. Didn't want you to feel …obliged."

"There's nothing wrong with asking us for help, you know." Jack looked into the Doctor's exhausted eyes, and felt suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said. The Doctor looked puzzled. "Too wrapped up in my own problems," Jack explained. ""I should have known he wouldn't leave you alone."

"No reason you'd know that," murmured the Doctor. "It's not your fault, Jack. The Master wanted to ... keep things private." The Doctor's eyelids were drooping.

"Go back to sleep," said Jack. "I'll be right here."

"Thank you." The Doctor closed his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

"Morning," said Martha, yawning as she walked into the medical unit. "How is he?" She checked the machines. "His temperature's started to come down, that's great."

"He woke up," said Jack. "Just for a few minutes."

"What did he say?"

"He meant to tell us, but he was waiting for the right moment," said Jack drily.

Martha rolled her eyes. "I'd love to know his definition of the right moment." She went over to the bed. "His colour looks a lot better, too."

Jack got up. "I'd better go. Call me if you need to."

"I will," said Martha.

As Jack went through the console room, he noticed the Doctor's overcoat still lying on the floor. He picked it up, and laid it over a railing, but as he did something fell out of an inside pocket. He bent and picked it up. It was a piece of paper, a letter. Jack froze, staring at the handwriting, uncomprehending. "You've got to be kidding me!" he muttered. He almost started back to the medical unit, and then stopped, considering. Finally coming to a decision, he put the letter in his pocket, and left the TARDIS.

"_I'm waiting for a branding iron," said the Master cheerfully, "with my initial." He ran a hand over the Doctor's scarred chest. "I like to put my name on my toys. It's still on order." He went to his cupboard and rummaged around. "In the meantime, we'll just have to make do." He turned around with an electric cattle prod, just warming up. "Ready or not, here I come!"_

The Doctor realised two things – that he was on the TARDIS, not the Valiant, and that he was sitting up screaming at the top of his lungs with Martha holding onto him calling, "Doctor, wake up, you're having a nightmare!" He relaxed into her hold, gasping. "You're on the TARDIS, you're safe, everything's fine," said Martha soothingly.

"Martha," he breathed, embarrassed. "Sorry. I thought …"

"It's ok," she said, and picked up a glass of water. "Drink this." She helped him to drink. "I need you to eat something. Do you think you can stay awake?" He nodded. "Are you in pain?" He shook his head. "Lie down. I'll be back," she said, and left the room.

The Doctor shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. He was starting to feel a bit stronger, much to his relief. The TARDIS hummed. "Yes, alright, you were right." Another hum. "I am feeling better."

_You'll feel much better if you would just see things my way._

The Doctor flinched. "Stop it!" he whispered, agitated.

"Stop what?" asked Martha, entering the room with a tray.

The Doctor smiled brightly. "Nothing," he said.

Martha sighed. "I think we're a bit beyond that, don't you?" She put down the tray. "Soup."

He sat up. "Smells good." He began to eat.

"So," Martha prodded. "Stop what? Flashbacks?"

The Doctor paused mid eating, and looked at her worriedly.

"Personal experience," said Martha calmly.

The Doctor looked horrified. "Oh, Martha, I'm sorry!"

"It's alright. Is it seeing? Hearing?"

"This soup is delicious," he said evasively, continuing to eat.

"You're not going to distract me," said Martha patiently.

The Doctor sighed. "His voice. I keep hearing … like he's standing right next to me."

"See, that wasn't so hard. I hear that sound … the one the Toclafane made." She took the tray away, and he lay down. "I've been doing some research," she continued. "Most psychiatric experts agree that flashbacks are the mind's way of healing … that's for humans, of course."

"And Timelords." He paused. "Martha, what are you doing in Cardiff? I thought you'd be with your family?"

Martha sat down next to the bed. "I just came to see Jack. I'm going back to school soon, and I just ... well, he's someone who knows and who isn't in pieces... anymore, anyway."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise for that," said Martha. "If you want to apologise, how about for going off and not telling us you weren't well? Lying to me and saying you were fine? Feel free to apologise for that."

He looked sheepish. "I am sorry. I just didn't want you to feel you had to stay."

She sighed in exasperation. "I'd have wanted to help, and so would Jack. We're your friends and we care about you. That's what friends are for, to help you when you need it. You helped us, what's wrong with asking us to help you?"

He looked away, and shrugged. "I will be fine."

"Yes you will, now you've got help." She sighed again. "Why are you always so stubborn?"

He gave her a tentative smile. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," she said, noticing his fatigue. "Do you think you could go back to sleep?"

He nodded wearily. It wasn't really so hard, he thought as he closed his eyes, letting someone help him. And it was good to see them and know that they were ... not well, but seemed to be getting there.


	10. Chapter 10

"All these early nights," said Gwen coyly, shortly after she arrived at work that day. "What are you getting up to?"

Jack sighed. "Looking after a sick friend, if you must know."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Gwen said sweetly.

Jack enquired whether she had some work she ought to be getting on with, and retreated to his office. Did she really think he was running off to the TARDIS every night to shag the Doctor? he thought in exasperation. He would find it amusing, only he was worried that Ianto might be thinking the same thing, and he wanted things to be better between them.

"Leaving early again tonight?" asked Ianto late that afternoon, placing coffee on Jack's desk.

Jack looked up at him, and nodded. "It won't be for much longer." He sipped the coffee. "I missed your coffee, you know." He smiled. "I missed you."

Ianto smiled back. "I'm looking forward to our date."

"Me too." Does he need more reassurance? Jack wondered. "I'll see you in the morning," he repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time. To his surprise and relief Ianto's response was more than he expected.

"I know." Ianto laid a hand on his arm. "It's alright, Jack."

When Jack left the Hub it was with the awareness of surreptitious glances, and whispered conversations that always seemed to stop if he came too close. He crossed the Plass, aware of the CCTV that he was sure they were glued to yet again, and entered the TARDIS. He was still surprised and a little amused that absolutely nothing had been said about the TARDIS. He would expect no less from Ianto, but it was interesting the others had been so restrained. He had been expecting Gwen's head to explode from the pressure for some days, but all she'd come out with was that little dig that morning. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Jack, he told himself. If they don't ask then you don't have to tell them you're not going to tell them anything, thus avoiding the whole resentment thing, something you really don't have the energy to deal with right now.

It had been a quiet period, for which he was grateful. He had spent as much time as possible puzzling over the letter that had fallen from the Doctor's coat, and wondering exactly how to handle it. Options had ranged from putting it back and saying nothing, to giving the Doctor a good shake. He had finally come to a decision, however, that they needed to … have a conversation about it, now the Doctor was on the mend.

The Doctor finally left the medical unit that day, and that evening Jack ordered pizza, putting the other two into stitches with his description of the pizza boy's expression when Jack had taken delivery at the door of the TARDIS. He had surreptitiously told Martha that he needed to speak to the Doctor privately, so eventually, after reminding the Doctor not to overdo things, she left them alone in the library.

While Jack was wondering how to begin, the Doctor said, "What have you done with the recordings?"

"She told you about that, did she?" said Jack. "I've destroyed them."

The Doctor seemed exasperated. "What possessed you to let her see one? You must have known how upset she'd be!"

"I don't know," Jack admitted. "I shouldn't have mentioned them at all, but I did, and then she insisted, and …" He shrugged. "Not my best decision."

"No," the Doctor agreed. "I knew he was recording you, but I didn't think … should have realised, I suppose." He tried to change the subject. "So, all settled back in, then? Team still talking to you and all that?"

Jack grimaced. "Sort of. We're making progress. You could come for a tour if you like." The Doctor shrugged, but Jack could have sworn he looked nervous. "I told you, Doctor, Torchwood has changed. I've made sure of it. It's not always nice, not always ideal, but one thing I do not and will not ever see happen again is the kind of sloppy experimentation that resulted in the Canary Wharf fiasco, or the kind of attitude that made Yvonne think that aliens such as yourself could be treated like property. You've got my word on that."

"I know." The Doctor fell silent, and Jack thought, this is it. Now or never. Tread carefully, Jack, he told himself. He's still pretty fragile. He took the letter out of his pocket. "I found this on the floor in the console room. You must have dropped it."

He handed the letter to the Doctor, who looked at it casually, then suddenly froze. His gaze travelled up to Jack's face, wary.

Jack smiled in what he hoped was a non threatening manner. "Fell out of your coat, I think."

"Umm … thank you," said the Doctor, folding it up.

"Got me a bit confused, though," said Jack conversationally. "Because, if you never came back for me, how did the letter I left on the Game Station end up in your pocket?" The Doctor didn't reply, didn't look at him. Jack persisted. "I don't understand. Why would you rather I believe you never bothered than tell me you tried?"

"Because I got it wrong!" the Doctor whispered, suddenly anguished.

Ah, he's feeling guilty, Jack thought, looking at his face. But is it deserved? Why would he get it wrong? "Relax," he said as soothingly as he could. "I'm not angry, I'm just asking for the truth." He paused. "Taking the Vortex out of Rose, is that what made you regenerate?" The Doctor nodded.

"So you left without me because …. you were dying, you were … confused?" Another nod.

"I read a Unit file on you," said Jack. "A medical report just after regeneration. A Doctor Sullivan reported some memory loss."

The Doctor nodded again, his gaze still on the floor. "I … couldn't remember … when you were, not exactly, not enough to be sure."

"What about the TARDIS memory banks?"

"With all that Vortex power going backwards and forwards, about a month's worth of data had been wiped, including the Game Station temporal coordinates."

"So you guessed."

"Christmas night. Rose was with her mother. I knew I had one shot only. Can't start backtracking over your own timeline. I got it wrong. You didn't say where or when you'd end up, and I had no way to track you." He looked up finally. "I am sorry, Jack."

It was a heartfelt plea for forgiveness, one that Jack couldn't resist even if he'd wanted to. "It's alright." He grinned. "Though why you didn't tell me this right away I will never understand!"

The Doctor shrugged. "I don't know … ashamed, I guess."

"You're going to be alright Doc."

The Doctor nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, I'm always alright."

Who're you trying to convince? Jack thought. "Martha said you told her that just before she left," he commented drily. "She was pretty mad."

The Doctor winced. "Yes … I've heard all about that, thanks."

"She got around to kicking your butt then?"

"Pretty much."

"You should have said."

"I know."

"You could still, you know." The Doctor looked puzzled. "You could talk about it," suggested Jack.

The Doctor's confusion remained. "You saw the recordings. What do you want to know?"

Jack shook his head. "That's not what I meant. It's not about anything I want. How do you feel?"

"Ohh," said the Doctor with an exaggerated display of understanding. "Feelings!!"

"Doc," said Jack patiently. "I'm just suggesting it might help. You were there for us. We're here for you, that's all. It's up to you."

"You humans do so much talking," said the Doctor. "I never really understood how it's supposed to help." Jack said nothing, and the Doctor suddenly gave a wry smile. "You know, every so often, I found myself wanting to, I don't know, shake things up a little."

_He shuffled into the room, the Master walking behind. A voice in his ear. One word. "Strip." He pulled off his jacket, started to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, his fingers painful and stiff. The Master never touched him or got impatient, not at this stage, however long it took. He knew why, of course. The Master was savouring the anticipation._

_He stood naked finally, and at another word of command he stumbled forward to the frame, and raised his hands to the required position. Only then did the Master touch him, snapping the restraints into place on his wrists and ankles. At this point he appeared, walking around the frame to his toy cupboard (his own name), and stood there for a moment, just watching the Doctor, before raising the laser screwdriver. Seconds later the Doctor, transformed to normal age, hung limply in the frame, his head hanging forward, gasping in pain. _

_He had pointed out once, early on, that the Master's habit of making sure he was restrained before de-aging him was the act of a coward. He may as well have saved his breath. The Master just laughed at him, called it the act of a pragmatist, and sneered at his antiquated notions. Mind you, young or old, by now he had little physical strength left to resist. Regular abuse and semi-starvation had seen to that. _

"_So," said the Master, "are you going to tell me?"_

_The Doctor lifted his head with an effort. "I'm sorry," he said faintly, "what was the question again?"_

Jack didn't know whether to weep at the painfulness of the scene or laugh at the Doctor's nerve. He settled for a smile. "You took a risk."

"That was the point," said the Doctor, smiling back. "Ridiculous to goad him, I suppose, but sometimes it was important to know I had some fight left. Sometimes it was too hard to resist."

"What did he do?"

The Doctor shrugged. "The usual."

Jack watched him silently for a moment, then said, "I …. I used to do the same thing. Just say something to really piss him off, just to … reassure myself I still had the nerve. I mean, I'd end up getting shot, or worse, but I figured he was going to do that anyway, so what the hell." The Doctor seemed to be listening, so he continued. "There was this one time when I was wanting to annoy him and I couldn't think of anything particularly clever. He'd been calling me freak and so on, so I said it was better than being a genetic experiment gone wrong and asked him if someone had mixed up the test tubes at his conception. Lame, I thought, even as I said it. Losing my touch. Only … he went berserk. It was the worst … or maybe the best reaction I'd ever got out of him. It was weird … what?"

The Doctor was grinning broadly by this time and then started to laugh. "Quite by accident," he said as soon as he could, "you hit on the best insult you could possibly have managed."

Jack looked mystified. "Really?"

The Doctor nodded. "Oh yes. Question a Timelord's genetic integrity? Especially a Prydonian. Especially …" He paused, then started to laugh again, this time sounding almost mischievous. "I wonder if he thought I'd told you," he said thoughtfully."

"Told me what?" asked Jack, laughing as well. "Come on, spill it."

"There were rumours," said the Doctor, "about genetic impurity, throwback genes, even alien DNA."

"Was it true?"

"Not at all!" said the Doctor. "It only started after his behaviour started to become erratic. But he always hated it, so …"

"So I really insulted him!"

"You really insulted him."

Jack smiled blissfully. "You have no idea how happy you've made me, Doc."

"Yes I do," said the Doctor, still laughing.

Of course, thought Jack, seeing the Doctor refer to a memory of the Master or Gallifrey without acting like it was tearing his heart out was part of this happiness, but he wasn't going to mention that. It was nice to see, though.


	11. Chapter 11

Three days later, the Doctor, Martha and Jack were standing outside the TARDIS about mid morning.

"So the next time you need help, don't go waiting for the TARDIS to hijack you. Just ask, alright?" said Martha.

"I will, I promise," said the Doctor.

"And you'll take care of yourself, won't you?" He laughed at her. "Oh, all right," she said, slightly embarrassed. "You just scared us, that's all."

"I know, and I am sorry," said the Doctor.

Martha looked unconvinced. "And the next time you'd do exactly the same thing."

"No!" the Doctor protested. "Definitely not … well, probably not, I mean, it would depend on the situation …"

Jack was laughing. "Well I'm convinced!" He noticed the Doctor was suddenly looking around them suspiciously. "What's the matter?"

"We're being watched," said the Doctor.

"Oh, that." Jack pointed at the CCTV camera that was aimed in their direction. "It's just my guys being nosy, nothing to worry about." He waved at the camera.

"You really need to talk to them, you know," Martha pointed out.

"I will," said Jack. "Eventually."

"Who's waiting for the right moment now?" said the Doctor. He held out a hand to each of them, and they took it. "Thank you both for looking after me."

"You're welcome," said Martha.

"I'd carry you anytime Doc," said Jack." Martha elbowed him. "What?"

The Doctor shook his head at him, and with a wave, disappeared into the TARDIS.

"Keep in touch," called Martha.

"Don't be a stranger," said Jack. They watched the TARDIS dematerialise. "Drive you to the station?"

Martha nodded. "Thanks." He offered her his arm, and they began to stroll across the plaza. She laughed suddenly, and at his questioning look, she said, "I was just reminded of our first trip together. He offered me his arm like that. We went to the Globe Theatre to see Shakespeare."

"In the flesh?"

Martha nodded. "He kept on trying to chat me up. Then he tried to chat up the Doctor."

"Sounds like my kind of fella," said Jack with a grin.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

"You can't fix everything, Martha," said Jack. "Only time heals those kinds of wounds, for him and for us."

She sighed. "I hope time's quick about it then."

"Amen to that," said Jack.


End file.
